Hitchin' A Ride
by ahiddenbanshee
Summary: Prompt Raffle Challenge from the Captain America Fanfiction Challenge forum – my challenge: Hitchhiker!AU. First time in a forum, first time answering a prompt. Can be read platonic or romantic.


Prompt Raffle Challenge from the Captain America Fanfiction Challenge forum – my challenge: Hitchhiker!AU. Can be read with or without shipper goggles. No warnings.

* * *

It came on like an asthma attack, although without much warning, so rather more like a sucker punch to the gut than an asthma attack (Steve was familiar with both, sometimes it was a task to differentiate). Steve was seconds away from sleep when the thought brought him back to full consciousness. Curled up on the couch with several blankets he launched upwards and let out a gasp. Bucky, seemingly always on alert whenever Steve made the smallest of troubling sounds, shot up with a snort and immediately rubbed the sleep from his eyes to seek out Steve's slight frame in the darkness. "Wha's wrong? S'th'matter, Steve?" he questioned already swinging his legs over the side of his bed (a generous word for what was really a cot) and stumbling through their small shared studio apartment toward the couch.

Steve's eyes already adjusted to the darkness enough for him to stifle his laughter when he saw and heard Bucky stub his foot on the coffee table and bark out a curse before properly making his way around the toe hazard of a piece of furniture to crouch down to Steve's level.

"You okay, pal?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve answered quickly, and in hindsight thought he should have said that before causing Bucky to worry enough to rush to his side. "I, uhh, I just had a thought… An idea, actually."

"Oh," Bucky's relief was enough to knock his legs out from keeping him crouched, he sat down on the floor and slumped his arms and head against the couch cushions that were still warm from Steve's body heat. "Must've been a hell of a thought to wake you up in the dead of night," Bucky yawned through most of his words, eyes falling closed again while Steve was still very much wide awake.

"Yeah," Steve mumbled and sat up fully, still wrapped up in the blankets he swung his socked feet to touch the floor, "Y'know how the last…" he couldn't help but smile at the memory while at the same time he felt his heart sink, "The last film I saw with Ma was It Happened One Night?"

Bucky chuckled into the couch cushions, eyes still closed he hummed before answering, "She was head over heels for Clark Gable, yeah. Can't forget her cooin' over the posters outside the box office."

Steve laughed, "Yeah," and for a few moments they just laughed together over the memory of Sarah Rogers and her love for the handsome men of the silver screen. But the happy moment passed, and the present set in around them once again. Sarah had died over a month ago, which was about how long Steve had been taking up space on Bucky's couch. The reason Steve had woken was fresh in his mind once again, "She said if she could she would've loved to travel the country like that."

"What? Hitchin'?" Bucky asked.

Steve nodded even if it wasn't clearly seen in the dark, "I wanna do that, Buck."

"Hitchhike," Bucky repeated without any inflection of query in his tone.

"Yes."

"You know it's gonna be winter soon," his tone was still that of unimpressed.

"Yes."

Bucky didn't respond for a moment, but when he did it was with, "You're certifiable, pal. It'll be freezing soon." He pulled himself up from the floor to sit beside Steve on the lumpy couch.

"It won't be so bad. If you're in a car."

" _If_ ," Bucky parroted, but he could tell what Steve was thinking, especially when he didn't say anything at all – His mother Sarah had been a healthy woman and tuberculosis had taken her without much of a struggle; meanwhile Steve was not only constantly sick, but a feeble man to begin with. He wouldn't say it aloud, but he was absolutely thinking it, Steve only wanted to do this, to do what Sarah wanted to do, because he was afraid he was going to die without truly living and following his dreams. Bucky could practically hear Steve shrugging it off with words spoken far too casually for his heart to take, 'Might not make it through winter anyway'. Bucky couldn't stand the idea of losing Steve, now or ever. He was relieved when Steve finally agreed to live with him, mercy on his nerves if only when they were together; Steve and his tendency to stand up for himself and others against bullies three times his size was another story entirely.

Through the dark he could make out Steve's thin, hunched form, fingers fiddling nervously in his lap because he knew if Bucky disagreed with the idea there's no way he would let him go on his own. Bucky puffed out a sigh, "Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"You can hitch, but on the condition that I get to come with you."

"Really?" Steve stood up in a fit of excitement, "You'd leave everything behind to hitchhike with me?"

Bucky grinned and shrugged one shoulder, stifling a yawn as he answered, "'Til the end of the line, Stevie."

.

It was a week before Christmas 1936 when they left school, work, and Bucky's apartment behind; all the loose ends were tied and they left with what they could carry on their backs. Luckily, due to the Christmas season, people were feeling much more of the generous holiday spirit and were far more willing when picking up two strangers off the side of the road. By the start of spring they had made it to Florida, from there they started West. The plan was to visit every state, if possible, by the end of 1937, and they did a swell job of it.

They'd sit or walk continuously as they hitched with thumbs out. At one point they hadn't been picked up for a ride for an entire week. Bucky had slumped down on the side of the highway, head propped up on his pack as he called out, "Do your ma proud, Stevie, and show 'em a little leg! Like Claudette Colbert, c'mon Steve!" The gesture he was given in return was enough to make his stomach hurt from laughing so much.

They did odd jobs on the side, the sorts of tasks that were one and done in a day and paid with cold hard cash, which worked out well when they wanted to stay in a motel rather than camp out. Although all this traveling seemed to be doing Steve a lot of good; Bucky had noticed he had much more endurance after their first year on the open road – less asthma attacks, he could carry his own stuff without any complaints or quick fatigue, he even kept pace with Bucky's long strides, he'd gained enough weight from crummy diner food which turned into muscle so that he wasn't bone thin anymore and liable to freeze to death if they did camp out beneath the stars.

.

Steve and Bucky were settled in Arizona for a spell; wanting to enjoy warmth for a while longer before they kept moving onward to states they'd already visited and actually endured all four seasons rather than just summer all year round. They wouldn't enjoy it much longer when the news ultimately broke.

Bucky took a nip from a fresh bottle of whiskey before tucking it away in his pack, it had taken several liquor stores until they finally believed he was in fact 22 and so was Steve even if he did look 16. He and Steve entered the next diner they happened upon and sat down, and not soon after the waitress arrived to their table did the entire diner go deadly silent. A lone radio was cranked to blaring as it reported that Germany had invaded Poland two days ago, and France and Britain were now declaring war. The boys exchanged a glance, just a glance that spoke more than words would at that very moment; in short, their adventurous hitching days were over, they had to return to New York, had to return to the real world because it was only a matter of time before America joined the war… and they would report for duty.

.

.

.

In 1941 Steven Grant Rogers was deemed healthy enough to join the United States Army, it was the stuff of Bucky Barnes' nightmares come true. Not only that, but Steve was placed into a different infantry regiment than Bucky, so his hopes of keeping an eye on him were dashed as well. As grime as the thought was, it was entirely realistic - they would never see each other again.

.

The last thing Bucky heard of Steve was only in relation to the 107th being captured by German forces. He said a prayer for his best friend and plead forgiveness to Sarah Roger's spirit.

.

When the war ended with Bucky miraculously surviving unscathed he had no desire or reason to return to the States. Sure he'd made friends among his brothers in arms, but they were just men who shared in the horrors of war and did not need reminding of that from one another when they returned to civilian life. When the United States forces were loaded up to return home Bucky stayed in England, he bought an old fixer up of a car and drove around the peacefully gorgeous countryside, picking up hitchers and taking them which direction they wanted to go.

.

An entire year had passed since the war ended, but it would never feel the same way it did before war was declared. An entire year passed by but every single day Bucky thought of Steve. So he assumed he was going bananas when he spied a person on the side of the road with their thumb sticking out, and as he drew nearer with his car looked quite a lot like Steve… if Steve was 6 foot 2 and pushing 250 pounds of solid muscle. Regardless of the likeness in the face he would pick up the drifter, even if it stabbed his heart with a phantom dagger. But as he crawled to a stop and the fella poked his face through the open window there was no mistaking that dumbass goofy grin, those eyes that told him his entire damned life story… This was his Steve. The question was heavy on his tongue, 'What the hell did they do to you, Steve?!' But he was sure that was no way to start a conversation with his best friend he'd assumed was killed in action. He would ask later. After all… They had time.

Bucky swallowed heavily against all the conflicting emotions forming a lump in his throat, "You goin' my way, punk?"

"Depends on where you're goin', jerk."

A bright grin burst across Bucky's face that he just couldn't contain.

"Anywhere you wanna go, pal. 'Til the end of the line."


End file.
